Any Man She Wanted
by egyptianmyth
Summary: It may not have been hard to say that at one point or another, she had her pick of anyone she had wanted. WSR, NSR, GSR, GSR.


Title: Any Man She Wanted

Summary_: Most of them could easily be construed as one night stands. It may not have been hard to say that at one point or another, she had her pick of any one she had wanted. _

Several vignettes set throughout the series. Came up with the ideas during a marathon, because my life is just that thrilling. Warrick/Sara, Nick/Sara, Greg/Sara, Grissom/Sara.

Disclaimer: Don't own them, never will. But that doesn't make them any less cool.

**Warrick**

_"That handbag was 300$?" _

_"Yeah."_

_"How do you know?"_

_"I bought one for an ex-girlfriend once."_

Sara smirked. She should know--it was still sitting on a shelf in her closet. Truth was, Catherine had nothing on her.

Four years ago, coming back early from a convention. They hadn't told work about the sudden change of schedule on the college's part, so had three extra days of unaccustomed leisure. Warrick, at the time, hit the casinos, and invited Sara along for a good time. When they had taken the time to hit the black jack table, within an hour had one a couple thousand.

Both filled with adrenaline and with it, boldness, they suddenly found themselves very physical in an empty sports room. Afterwards they hit the strip to splurge. After all, who's first thought with casino winnings is to put it in the bank?

They hit the shots, hit the shops, and by 4 am Sara was in possession of a $300 dollar purse.

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**Nick**

"_What do you like better—leather, or lace?"_

"_Man, I'm not even going there. Lace!"_

They were quickly caught up in some bizarre…thing that started somewhere between the searing Vegas summer heat, and the need for affirmation that the best things in life weren't necessarily free, and they weren't necessarily selfless. Somewhere between solving a case centered at yet another cheap strip-side motel, and even cheaper beds redeemed by the power of Magic Fingers, she and he both got it.

He paid, a gentleman, his searing eyes both getting them a room with a view of the chlorine-colored pool, and his hands on her skin the moment the door shut. Clearly, he had either had a great degree of practice, or he had simply thought this through a great many times. In the light of her knew selfish outlook, she opted for both, and as he kissed her again, allowed herself a smile, slightly preferring the latter.

She also found that he himself more than slightly preferred lace. And how could she complain, when it was just _spilling _out. It went from something her grandmother had. Something that was on handkerchiefs and dinning room tables, fine curtains, china cabinets. An acquired skill for a Victorian age.

Then it became something that Nick ran his fingers over, and suddenly it was something wished Sara had a lot more of.

**Greg**

They worked together on the cases in the college dorms at LVU, were the two students in a jock's room died from a toxic amount of dry ice inhalation.

They worked well together. Greg managed to combine his urge to learn everything he could, with an unceasing ability to turn their gruesome line of work into an almost fun line of puzzles and experimentation.

His wit brought out a lighter side of her, and it was unbelievably refreshing. Humanity was hard to find in a line of work that dealt in little else than death. And somehow, the explosion of the toilet just topped it for her. They went on brake for lunch--in the meal hall of all places, and he managed to say all the right things. Juvenile, funny, ambitious in more than one way. All of them right.

And in between the spaghetti and mystery sauce and the ice cream, they found themselves in a storage room right next to the garbage shoot--another dire accessory of college life. Dark slacks, bullet proof vests and all, they found themselves preoccupied for some time. It was combustion of her sudden bought of experimentation and his surprisingly gentle touch, leaving Sara feeling more alive on that case that practically any other since her start at Las Vegas.

Most of them could easily be construed as one night stands. It may not have been hard to say that at one point or another, she had her pick of any one she had wanted. Except, as is true for so many other things, the one she tried so hard to get. The one she ached to have.

He was older. He was stubborn. He was eccentric, and emotionally unavailable. But he was unbelievably intelligent, and had the potential to show much more than she could ever imagine. She wanted what she could not have. She wanted him.

She had asked for coffee, for dinner, for a gentle touch, even out-right sex and physicality. She had asked him to try. Because really, all she wanted was _him_. She didn't think that was too much to ask. But she knew that anyway, it wasn't what she was going to have.

_Fin._


End file.
